


Stargazers

by yumekuimono



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: College Student Peter, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, New York City, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumekuimono/pseuds/yumekuimono
Summary: "The stars sure are pretty tonight.""What stars? We're in Manhattan."Just a short, silly thing about city stars and how to earn prettiness.





	Stargazers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly surprised I found the time to bang this out between uni stuff.
> 
> Whenever I read a fic set in NYC (Manhattan especially!) and someone mentions the stars, I always think to myself, "has this author... _been_ to New York?" So I wrote a cute little spideypool thing.

Wade let out an exaggeratedly content sigh, of the kind that meant he wanted to pretend that whatever he said next was completely spontaneous but also wanted Peter’s full attention for it. He stretched, then flopped backwards onto the flat roof of the high-rise, arms above his head. “The stars sure are pretty tonight.”

Peter twisted around from his perch on the ledge to squint at Deadpool’s masked face. He knew when he was being set up. “What stars? We’re in Manhattan. There’s too much light pollution and smog to see stars.”

Wade pouted, just his mouth and chin visible. “That’s not true! I can see like, ten stars.”

“Where?”

“There’s the Big Dipper.”

Peter lay down with his head next to Wade’s to follow the path of his gloved finger. “That’s not the Big Dipper.”

“Sure it is. It’s big and it’s dipper-shaped. Bam: Big Dipper.”

“Yeah, but it’s not supposed to take up the whole sky.”

“How would you know? Have you ever seen the Milky Way? More stars than you can count on your fingers and toes?”

“No.” Peter had been to Island Beach State Park, and Connecticut when he’d toured Yale. Neither of those places were much better than New York for stars, although they had little enough light pollution that the night sky looked navy rather than orange. He’d gone camping upstate with Aunt May and Uncle Ben once too, a few months after he came to live with them. He didn’t remember a lot from back then. If he’d seen stars, it didn’t help him now.

“Well, there you go. You haven’t, and I have. So leave the constellations to the experts. Hey, do you think if you went to the countryside you could use your webbing to balloon across the fields the way baby spiders do? You know, ‘cause there’s no buildings?”

Peter ignored the question. “That’s only six.”

“What?”

“Six stars. In the Big Dipper. _If_ that’s what it is.”

“No, there’s seven. Four in the ladle-bit, and then the handle goes up like that and there’s a faint one before you curve down to get the last one.”

“I don’t see the faint one.”

“Course not. You gotta look in the corner of your eye, where your night vision receptors are.”

Peter focused off to the right of where Wade pointed. There could have been a glimmer at the edge of his vision, but it also could have been his imagination. “I don’t believe you. It’s not there.”

“Yuh- _huh_ ,” Wade said.

“Where are the other three?”

“There’s one over there.” Wade pointed across his body, to the gap between two skyscrapers further downtown. Peter propped himself on an elbow to look.

“That’s an airplane, Wade.”

“It’s not moving.”

“A helicopter, then. It’s got a red blinking light.”

“ _Fine._ ” Wade’s arm swung around to the opposite direction, nearly smacking Peter in the face. “What about those?”

Two bright points of light hung over the East River. Peter considered them.

“I don’t think those are stars, actually.”

“What else would they be?”

“Planets.”

“Pshaw, no one can tell those apart.”

“Sure you can,” Peter said. “Planets don’t twinkle because they’re closer to Earth. The reddish one’s probably Mars, and the other one could be Venus. Or Jupiter, maybe.”

“They still count as stars.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“They’re celestial bodies of light! Therefore, stars!”

“But a planet isn’t the same thing as a star.”

“Spidey, this is _Manhattan_ ,” Wade shrieked. “We can’t afford to be picky about our stars!”

A horn blared thirty-six stories below, despite the hour. Traffic here still bustled at midnight. The streets wouldn’t empty until after two or three in the morning, when the bars and nightclubs closed. Even then, Peter would be able to hear the whisper of automobiles or the subway if he concentrated. This was the city at its most peaceful.

“I suppose you’re right,” Peter said.

“Anyway, you haven’t agreed with me,” Wade groused. “You’re supposed to agree that the stars are pretty.”

“And if I do?”

“Then I get to say, ‘Yeah, but you know what’s prettier?’”

“A hot dog.”

“ _Spidey_. We had tacos.”

“That was before we went to the Bronx to fight a bunch of people. And then we came all the way down here. Also, I’m a college student. A college student with an _enhanced metabolism,_ no less.”

“You’re a spoilsport.”

Peter nodded. “An enhanced spoilsport. Enhanced by hunger.”

“I think you just don’t want to hear what’s prettier than the stars. I’ll have to reconsider my evaluation because of that, you know.”

“Oh, so you think _I’m_ the one that’s prettier than the stars?” Despite himself, something wavered behind Peter's ribs at the implied complement.

“Well now I’m not sure,” Wade said in his best properly put-upon voice. “You can certainly be prettier than the helicopter. But not the stars.”

“That’s a low bar,” Peter protested. “I’m at least as pretty as the planets, if not the stars.”

“Hmmmmm.” Wade stroked his chin with forefinger and thumb. His mouth pursed in a semi-successful effort to keep back a smile. “ _Hmmmmmm._ No, I don’t think you’re at the level of celestial bodies of light anymore, sorry.”

Peter set one foot on the ledge of the roof and flattened his palms behind his shoulders to arch up into a backbend. His spine crackled satisfyingly when he pushed his weight onto his arms. Peter kicked up and over with his free leg until he stood upright on his feet. He held out a hand to Wade.

“What if I buy you a hot dog?”

Wade slapped his hand into Peter’s and let himself be hauled up. “I could reconsider over a hot dog. But no guarantees.”

“If a hot dog doesn’t do it, I’ll just have to keep working at it until I earn my way back to being pretty as possible, then.” Peter raised his eyebrows. A smirk hovered around his mouth.

Wade looked over both shoulders as if someone could be listening in. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, I don’t think it’ll take you very long.” Then he straightened up with a grin. “You got yourself a deal, Spidey-boy.”

“Why, thank you very kindly, Mr. Pool.”

With that, Peter swung them both off into the night, Wade whooping and laughing the whole way.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me on [Tumblr](http://yumekuimono.tumblr.com)


End file.
